


lazy ocean hugs the shore

by thchateaus



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DC Extended Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Harley deserves a hug, Harley gets her sandwich, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thchateaus/pseuds/thchateaus
Summary: *Birds of Prey spoilers!*A missing scene in which Dinah drops Harley off at her place after the alteration at the club. But gay.
Relationships: Dinah Lance/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 32
Kudos: 384





	lazy ocean hugs the shore

**Author's Note:**

> hello oh my god i couldn't stop thinking about these two and that talk at the club. i have no clue what this is. i just had to write them after seeing birds of prey and i spewed this up in an hour. its 3am so i'm sorry if there's typos - they'll be edited out tomorrow!
> 
> fyi - there's implications of past abuse and harley having lasting trauma from it (though she doesn't acknowledge it.)

Harley realizes two things when she wakes up. No,  _ three  _ things.

One, her head  _ hurts _ . Like… enough that moving it has her having to try real, real hard not to blow chunks in the back of this car. The seats are real pretty and the leather is still shiny. It squeaks when she pokes at it.

Which leads to the second thing. She’s in a car. She doesn’t remember getting in one. Even one as nice as this. Either, she pissed someone off real bad or she’s dreaming. Or some goon jumped her and is talking her to her death. She tries to look for the driver, head rolling onto her shoulder just enough for her to catch dreads in her peripheral vision before she’s heaving.

“No puking in my fucking car, Harley,” She hears, the voice very much familiar. Smooth. But her head  _ hurts _ and she doesn’t want to figure out who. They’re not tryna kill her, so. She’s perfectly fine passing the fuck out again. 

“Pinky promise,” She mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of her elbow, black lipstick smudging on her cheek, her arm, chin. Meh.

She hears stilted laughter, and it reminds her of birdsong. Or, what she  _ thinks  _ is birdsong. Gotham’s not really home ground for any kinda nature that isn’t vermin or rotting in a shipping container. What she’s saying is that her laugh is pretty. 

Oh, and the third thing? There’s a blanket over her. Or there was. It tangles in her legs as she curls up, because it's cold, okay.

“Jesus, we’re almost to your place, quit moving. You’re gonna fall out.”

“Gettin comfy,” She says, makes a very compelling argument, and gets drool on her arm. There’s that laugh again.

She must fall asleep because she’s suddenly jolted awake by a bang, one sharp enough that her ears are ringing the second she wakes and sits up. Then the nausea returns and. She’s just not having a good day, here. Really. She looks to the source of the noise; Dinah Lance and her hand on the back of the seat.

“C’mon,” She says, holds out her hand with a frown, “You gotta help me out here, I can’t carry you.”

Harley, with a grumble, manages to stumble out of the car. Right into Dinah. 

Hands reach out to steady her, rings cold on her skin, then one’s grabbing her hand and throwing her arm over Dinah’s shoulders. The other goes to her waist, causing shivers for entirely different reasons, and she’s lonely and drunk and fucking sad, okay. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.

She helps Harley inside, says something to Doc that she can’t hear because her ears are still ringing and Dinah’s hand is tight on her waist-

There’s food being shoved into her chest. A 32. She almost cries. Key word: almost. Important distinction here.  _ But.  _ It smells so good, even inside the shitty container that Doc’s thrown it into that definitely hasn’t been cleaned out in a while. But she doesn’t care.

They get up the stairs just fine, Dinah holding her up despite her complaining, and she doesn’t drop any of the food. Win-fucking-win. 

She’s barely settled down before Bruce is nudging at her side with a whine. She rests her head on his, cooing as he lets out a cackle.

“Why the fuck do you have a hyena on your couch?” Dinah asks, eyeing Bruce up as she walks back to the kitchen area, and Harley pouts. 

“I don’t much like being alone,” She shrugs, tilts her head to the sound of running water, “What are you doing?”

“Getting some water in you,” Dinah says, settling a glass in her hand, “Drink. You’ll feel better.”

“Huh, that’s what I’ve been tellin’ myself the past couple of days. Ain’t really helped all that much, as it turns out.”

“Harley,” She sighs, lays a hesitant hand on Harley’s shoulder, “I can’t tell you what to do. But I know that this isn’t gonna make you feel any better about what that asshole did to you. Don’t let that shit rule you. C’mon, sober up.”

Harley blinks, a lump suddenly lodged in her throat, and she wants to hold that hand resting on her arm. Wouldn’t dare say it, though. So, she drinks. Downs the whole glass of shitty tap water and watches Bruce curl up at the other end of the couch.

“Done,” She mumbles, lip wobbling, and doesn’t think when she grabs at Dinah’s hand. She tangles their hands together and gives Harley a smile, brows creased in confusion. 

“You got a bed around here?2

“Back room,” Harley squints, “Why?”

Dinah is still watching her with a frown, and it just makes her  _ sadder _ . “You need to sleep this off.”

“Not tired,” She yawns, frowns at the raise of Dinah’s brow. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Dinah shakes her head, small smile on her face. It's pretty. She’s pretty. She tugs Harley up gently. Harley falls forward and rests her head on her shoulder, and she’s just a little shocked when arms snake around her waist.

“You’ve been through a lot of shit,” She says in Harley’s ear, comforting and soft in all the ways that are entirely foreign to Harley, and she feels warm all over. Feels a lot like crying. “It's okay to let go.”

“You’re really smart,” is what Harley whispers back, against bare skin, and it stains black. Dinah chuckles, and it's not much like a songbird at all, but it's real nice.

“Aren’t you the one with the PHD?” Harley barks a laugh of her own, eyes prickly with moisture. She is  _ not  _ about to cry. She’s not.

She does.

“I am,” She grins incredulously, nostrils flaring as tears she’s been holding in for weeks breach the surface and flood her cheeks, but she’s _happy_ .

Dinah’s hand rubs between her shoulder blades, warm and grounding, and she suddenly feels silly. Throws the glittering coat off of her shoulders and goes to rip the diamantes from her eyebrow when Dinah catches her wrist.

“Hey,” Her thumb strokes Harley’s palm, “I can do it. If you want?”

“‘Kay,” Harley nods, a little dizzy by how close their faces are, how intensely Dinah is watching her. “Can you… can you get my onesie? It's the- the first thing I bought... After. It was really soft.”

“Sure. Gonna have to tell me where it is, though.”

“Bathroom,” Harley clears her throat, moment broken as Dinah disappears, and wipes her eyes. 

Dinah returns after a second, maybe thirty. Harley’s still a little tipsy. She bundles pink silk into a ball before throwing it to Harley. She catches it at her chest, and Dinah grins.

“I’m gonna just-” She makes a vague gesture as she spins around to let Harley change, “You want me to heat something up for you? You gotta be hungry, right?”

“Nope,” She is,  _ but _ , “Just wanna go to bed. I could really do with a couple lullabies.”

Dinah shakes with concealed laughter, and she jumps when Harley presses to her back, onesie zipped up to her collar. “Please?”

“Fine,” Dinah rolls her eyes, smile lingering, and she walks ahead to Harley’s room. Wordlessly, Harley follows. 

She’s not really sure what this is. She’s never had someone take her home drunk and  _ not  _ try to get off before. Or try to rob, maim or kill her. She doesn’t know what to do with genuine kindness, and ain’t that pathetic.

Dinah perches at the edge of her bed, covers already peeled back, and something in Harley twists. Makes her want shit she can’t have.

So she clambers in, pulls the blankets up to her chin, and whines until Dinah scoots closer.

“What’d you want me to sing?” She asks, a little too monotone and emotionless for Harley’s liking, so she reaches out for her hand again. Ponders for a moment. She doesn’t remember the last time someone asked for her opinion and meant it. She doesn’t know what to answer, had only asked for her to sing to delay the inevitability of Harley being left alone again.

“Your favourite,” She settles on eventually with a smile, and Dinah’s gaze softens.

“Okay,” She nods, reaches forward to tug Harley’s hair free of braids and a pressure she hadn’t released was there.

Somewhere between the first verse and nails on her scalp, she’s lulled to serenity.

“Will you stay? Please?” Harley blinks up at her, sleep dulling her senses and any kind of embarrassment, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Dinah squeezes her hand.

_ + _

When she wakes up this time, it's to Dinah beside her.

As she turns over, perfectly sober and in need of an egg sandwich, Dinah is already awake. Staring across at her. Then Harley takes in what she’s wearing: her sweater. An old one, more holes than material that scratches her skin raw and itchy, and Harley’s pulse throbs.

When she leans over to kiss Dinah, to pull that sweater off of her, she’s met halfway. Gets a laugh against her mouth and a hand tugging down the fucking onesie.

+

And after. 

After Roman and Cass and that creepy ass pier, Dinah finds them with the diamond before they can get to her car. Presses her to the wall of the alley and takes the keys from Harley’s pocket.

Says the kid can get in the back with the hyena, that nobody’s driving her baby but her.

Harley shrugs, hops into the passenger seat and turns on the radio. Cass presses foil into her hand from the backseat, deliciously warm and stinking of a little too much hot sauce, and she lets it fall in her lap.

She tugs Dinah into a kiss over the gear shift, hears Cass groan, Bruce laugh, and Dinah cackles.

They leave to the sound of Helena and Renee realizing too late that they’ve been fucked over. Harley raises her sandwich, throws the foil to the wind, and salutes their way.


End file.
